Roommate Wanted (Sharing Space #1) (8 page)

"Huh?  Uh, no that's fine; I just didn't notice it before. Don't ask me how. I thought you said your furniture was more futon and milk crates."

"Well, you know.  Boys and their toys.” He flashed a smile. I had the urge to put one of my fingers in his dimples, they were that deep. He strode across the room and carried one of the boxes to the kitchen, I assumed to unpack. I took the rest of my purchases to my bedroom and shut the door. I let out a deep breath as I plopped on the bed. There was a strange man making himself at home in my kitchen—our kitchen. I sat on the bed for several minutes wondering what to do next. What would I do if he wasn’t here, or what would I do if it was Grace? 

If I were home alone I'd probably change into something more comfortable, put on some music, fix myself a drink, and contemplate a dinner plan.  If Grace were here I'd be showing off the things I'd bought earlier and asking her if she wanted to do something that night. Could I do the same thing with Patrick? Well, if I couldn't it would be a long year. I debated for a moment or two longer then made my way to the living room. Patrick had unpacked all the boxes. They were now empty and stacked by the front door. He was sitting on the floor in front of the entertainment center placing movie and game cases inside the cabinet. 

"Need any help?"

He looked up at me, surprised. "No, I'm almost done. Thanks though." He glanced at the framed photos on the wall. "So, you a big Hitchcock fan?"

I smiled. "I enjoy a few of his movies, but
Rear Window
is my all time favorite movie period."

"Mine too. I had to buy it on Blu-Ray. I think I played a hole in my VHS copy in high school.” We laughed. I sat on the couch and watched him continue to put his things away. There was silence for a few moments and then we both started to speak at the same time.

"Chloe, listen—"

"Perhaps now would be—"

Patrick smiled, "Ladies first."

"Well, what I was going to say was perhaps now would be a good time to set some ground rules."

"Okay.” Patrick rose from his spot on the floor and sat on the armchair opposite me.

Now that I had his undivided attention I didn't know where to start, so I plunged right in.  "I have no right to tell you who you can and cannot have over. You have to understand that this is all new to me; I've never roomed with a man before. But male or female, I'd expect my roommate's guests to respect me and the apartment, just as I'm sure you'd want the same from my friends."

"Chloe, that's what I was going to say before. I'm sure you heard Max goofing off when you came in. He's not a bad guy, it's just that sometimes he doesn't know when to quit. He was joking and meant no harm, although I'm sure that made you feel uncomfortable. Nothing like that will happen again. I promise."

I was grateful that he had brought it up and appreciated the apology, though he didn't have any reason to be sorry. I told him as much.

"Yeah, but he's my friend. I feel responsible if he comes in here and acts like an ass."

"Paul seems nice," I offered, wanting to turn the conversation around.

"Oh, Paul's solid. He's good people." He paused, then said, "So, rule number one: All houseguests must show respect for the people who live here and their space."

"That was easy. Your turn."

"I don't have a rule so much as I want to make something clear to you. Besides being disrespectful, what Max said... Well, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I didn't move in here because I wanted to try and put the moves on you or anything like that. This is a great apartment; it's close to my work, it's ideal for me to be in the city for auditions, all the things I told you before. I have no desire to take this further than a platonic roommate relationship."

Well. 

"Not that I don't think you're attractive,” he rushed to say, making matters worse.

"Uh huh."

"It's just not what I'm here for and I hope Max didn't give you that impression."

"No, of course not. I didn't think you were... in it to get with me, I mean."

"Good, cause I wouldn't want you to have the wrong idea about me. It's important that we get off to a good start."

"I agree."

"Well."

"Yeah.”

If life were a movie, that would have been the exact moment we jumped all over one another, but it wasn’t a film and for whatever reason I felt like a pervert who'd been chastised.  Even though he was just trying to clear the air after Max's behavior, I couldn't help feeling like Patrick had shot me down. Not like I wanted to start something with him; I barely knew him, but did he have to sound so adamant about it? Then his phone rang and ended the awkward silence. After two rings he broke eye contact with me and pulled his phone from his pocket to answer it.

“Oh hey, Char, you got my message,” I heard him say as I made my way to the kitchen to give him some privacy. I noticed a blender and a Panini maker on the counter, signs that he spent some time in the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of wine and grabbed a take-out menu from one of the kitchen drawers. As I headed to my room, I heard Patrick tell his sister he had a full work schedule for the next few weeks.

With any luck, I'd barely notice he was here. 

***

A few days later I discovered one of the many benefits of living with a man. I’d just gotten home from work after one of those long days where every client had an emergency that needed fixing yesterday, and it must have shown all over my face as I entered the apartment. Patrick was on the sofa typing on his laptop.

“Bad day?” he asked.

“On a scale of one to ten, with ten being ‘Dear God, why wasn’t I born independently wealthy?’ it was a fifteen.”

Patrick smiled and nodded towards the kitchen. “There’s a cold beer in the fridge. The last one. You deserve it.” 

“A cold beer and hot shower. Perfect.”

I dropped my keys and purse on the armchair and made my way to the kitchen. Just as I took the beer from the fridge I noticed the biggest spider in the history of spiders on the counter. I let out a squeal only audible to dogs and, apparently, Patrick.

“What happened?” he yelled.

I ran back into the living room hopping from one foot to the next. 

“You’re shaking up the beer.”

“Forget the beer. There’s a big spider in the kitchen.”

“How big?”

“He looks like he’s on steroids! What does it matter? Go kill it before it gets away, comes into my room at night, and eats me while I sleep.”

Patrick sighed, placed his laptop on the coffee table, and started for the kitchen. He was grinning and mumbling something that sounded a lot like, “Yeah, cause that’s logical.”

“Oh, you got jokes.”

I followed him into the kitchen then stood on my tippy toes to peek over his shoulder.  I watched with relief as he first grabbed a paper towel and then headed for the spider on the counter. This quickly turned to horror as Patrick turned towards me with the little critter pinched between his fingers using the paper towel.

“What are you doing?”

“Look, it’s harmless.”

“It’s nasty. You’re nasty. What are you doing?”

With a grin on his face Patrick continued to advance toward me with the spider wiggling in his hand. I turned and ran towards my room. Patrick gave chase, laughing the whole way and, in spite of myself, I found I’d begun to laugh, too. I made it to my room and slammed the door seconds before Patrick. 

“Stop being such a girl!” he yelled from the other side of the door.

“Stop being so nasty!” I yelled back. 

“Just come out and look at it. It’s probably more afraid of you than you are of it.”

“I don’t care if it’s peeing its little spider pants all down your hand. You need to stop playing and throw it away.” I heard Patrick chuckle as he made his way back down the hallway leading to the living room.  “And wash your hands!” I called after him. His response was more laughter.

I set the beer on my dresser and searched for something more comfortable to wear. The hot shower I’d been anticipating had been upgraded to an hour-long soak in the tub.  Just as I was about to open the door Patrick knocked on it.

“Chloe, come on out.”

“Is it gone?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you. I swear, if you’re lying…”

My laughing response was cut off with Patrick’s next words.

“Someone’s here to see you. It’s Lawrence.”

I entered the living room to find Lawrence seated in the armchair that had previously held my purse and keys. They were now on the coffee table. I don’t know what infuriated me more: the fact that he’d shown up unannounced and had the audacity to get comfortable as if things were the same as before his betrayal, or the way he was watching Patrick with open hostility as he retrieved his laptop. 

I stood in Lawrence’s line of vision and stared at him while addressing Patrick, who’d begun to unplug his computer. “Patrick, you don’t need to leave. You live here. Besides, this won’t take long.” I crossed my arms across my chest and gave Lawrence the most evil look I could muster.

“I don’t mind. Really. Give me a shout when you’re done.”

Sneering in Patrick’s direction Lawrence said, “It might be a while, bro.”

Patrick gave Lawrence an appraising look that clearly determined he didn’t like what he saw. He shook his head and started to leave the room without his laptop. “I’ll be back in five minutes,” he called over his shoulder.

Props for Patrick.

Lawrence blew out a breath and stood to face me. “You need to check your boy.”

“His name is Patrick and he lives here. How dare you just show up without calling and try to play him like that?”

“Chloe, I’ve
been
calling and you won’t talk to me. What else was I suppose to do?”

“How about take the hint and leave me alone? Or better yet, how about not cheating on me to begin with?”

“So what, you just going to forget everything we had for almost a year without giving me a chance to explain and say I’m sorry?”

I stared at him, wondering where he found the nerve. He was standing before me looking as fine as he always did in a cream linen suit. The suit hung perfectly from his rock-solid frame and the color worked against his dark complexion. He was pleading with me with almond-shaped eyes. His head was shaved completely, which was a new look from the last time I saw him. Images from that time came flooding back, assaulting me. I could have kicked myself for weakening for even a moment.

“Were you thinking about everything we had when you were screwing that chick?”

“Chloe, that was my ex. We ran into each other at a dinner party a few weeks ago. Remember, I asked you to go with me to the thing for Jay Z, but you couldn’t and—”

“So this is my fault?”

“No, no, I’m just trying to explain how it happened. We ran into each other and she started calling. Things didn’t end right with us and we had all of this unfinished business—”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Apparently.”

“I didn’t mean like that. We just… we had a lot to talk about and one thing led to another. I never wanted to hurt you and I know it was wrong. That’s why I’ve been trying so hard to get to you. I wanted to apologize the right way.”

He reached out to take my hand and I tried to pull it away, but his grip was strong. He rubbed my hand with both of his. “Chloe, I love you. I messed up. Big time. Huge. The biggest mistake I’ve ever made, and all I want is a chance to make it right. One chance. You love me. I know you do. You can’t just turn your feelings off like that.”

I closed my eyes and allowed him to continue to hold my hand. “Maybe I did love you.” I pulled my hand away, opened my eyes, and took a step back. “But things are different now.”

Lawrence also took a step back and his pleading, remorseful face suddenly turned angry. “Why? Because ol’ dude moved in?”

“What? No. No. This has nothing to do with Patrick and everything to do with you tainting what we had. I gave you everything. I was never anything but honest with you. I supported you, and that wasn’t enough. You took all I had to offer and you spat on it. You tell me, how do we fix that?”

“I don’t know, but you owe it to us to try.”

“I don’t owe you anything. You need to go.”

He reached out for me again but before I could insist that he leave, Patrick’s voice drew our attention.

“Five minutes are up.”

Lawrence looked from me to Patrick and back again.

“Look, dude, this has nothing to do with you—”

“Maybe not,” I interrupted. “But he’s right. Your time is up.”

For a moment I watched the internal struggle play across Lawrence’s face. I knew I was essentially cutting him off at the knees, punking him if you will, in front of Patrick; however, I didn’t really care. Lawrence shook his head and walked to the door. Turning before he left he said to me, “We’re not done.” I sat on the sofa suddenly feeling sick to my stomach.

“Are things always this exciting around here?”